The Person I am Next to is Saving Over 3 Hours Annually

I am next to this guy. He is weathering a heathered purple tee, fitted tan jeans, and gray canvas shoes. He has a scruffy beard, big headphones, and expressive eyebrows. Eyebrows that just gave me a condescending waggle. This waggle is, presumably, referencing my use of sidewalks.

We are in a park, and in the fashion of most public greens, the sidewalks are meandering devices, more concerned with rose smelling than pedestrian efficiency. But, Tan Jeans is unconvinced by their suggestion of an idle pace.

Our paths cross as he enters the park. We seem to be headed in the same direction. I am bound by these fascist sidewalks, this intrepid son of Magellan has plotted a new course. A straight fucking line.

This is where he shoots me that patronizing look. Then, he boldly steps from concrete. Shocked and cowed by the genius of his revolutionary trailblazing, I sheepishly fall behind his blistering pace, herded along a preset path. He reaches the edge of the park and immediately jaywalks across a street.

As he arrives on the other side of the street I begin counting, one one thousand, two one thousand, and so on. Grimly, I plod over the unforgiving slabs of concrete all the way to a crosswalk. Then, idiotic rule follower that I am, I cross the street well within the lines. Finally, I make the agonizingly inefficient 90 degrees turn and walk another 10 feet to where Tan Jeans made it across the street.

I have hit 17 one thousand.

So, assuming he will walk back this way at some point, I multiply this by 2. Then, again operating under the generous, assumption that he will walk this way or a similar path every day, I multiply 34 by 365, reaching a staggering 12410 seconds.

I am not a metronome, and our paces may vary. Plus, he may not set this blistering pace every day. But, even with these factors in mind, this visionary is saving hours of time every year. At least 3 of them. No wonder he shot me that look, I am a such a cog.

You folks get that sheep pun?

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